


The sun was not nothing, the sun was him

by runachik



Category: Produce 101 (TV), UNIQ (Band), UP10TION, X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Butterfly Effect, Idk it depends on the point of view, M/M, kind of a happy ending??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 05:07:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20791127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runachik/pseuds/runachik
Summary: In a world where all Seungyoun can see is darkness, Wooseok becomes his favorite sun.





	The sun was not nothing, the sun was him

**Author's Note:**

> So, after many years of procrastination and stuff, I've finally made up my mind thanks to Seungseok and decided to publish something written by me for the first time ever. Yeah, Seungseok is THAT powerful.  
I'll cut this short because no one wants to read kilometric author's notes, yet while reading please keep in mind that not only this is a first for me, but English is also not my mother language and, since I don't have a beta, mistakes might occur even though I try my best not to make them. Please, correct me if you find any.  
Thank you so much for clicking on this and I hope you'll enjoy it!

November, year two thousand and nineteen.

Rain, there was only rain around him; cold angel’s tears that broke into condensation against the cement of the road, producing the sound of shattering crystal at every crash. And people, there were also people, maybe, but Seungyoun couldn’t see them in the surgical street light and them, he was sure of that, couldn’t see him. The inhabitants of that urban monster that was Seoul had been blind for so long, too long, to do so: they looked at each other, but without truly witnessing, mere breathing involucres, empty on emotions and purpose that roam around like ghosts, full of haste even though they are not going anywhere, terrestrial black holes that want a ‘more’ that they don't actually understand, incapable of appreciating, incapable of loving, be loved, incapable of noticing that, right in front of them, there was a boy that was sinking a little further into the shadow of an unhappy existence with every step he took. Seungyoun smiled of a bitter grin, lips that tear from their usual embrace in favor of the perfect pearly denture cloister only to be then assaulted by it in a bite that tastes like salt. Luckily there was rain that evening mingling with his despair, probably hiding it more from himself than from others. A leg that suddenly kicks the air, the anger that he knew he was feeling was incapable of dissolving itself and that had no other effect than to increase it: he wanted to scream, to fall on his knees, bend over and shout until his lungs had not started to burn and he had no more voice.

Years of lies, fake smiles, staged joy and: “I’m okay, everything’s fine” repeated like a lullaby meant to convince first of all himself and then the rest of the world had now the same weight as the absence of torned wings on Lucifer’s back.

The truth? Seungyoun wasn’t okay. He hasn’t been for ages, perhaps ever since; the realization had hit him like a bolt from the blue in the middle of that rainy night in mid-November. And suddenly everything had started making sense: the war of instincts inside his head had laid down its arms, hoisting the much hoped-for white flag, leaving behind a sea of blood that had the shape of yearning and the taste of failure, an empty crown dominating the heap of bones that once represented the boy's emotions. The worst part? For the first time in he doesn’t even remember how long he felt _happy_. Still in the grip of that euphoria, he flung himself out of the dormitory, the orb frenzy making him oblivious to the heavy rain falling on his raven hair, drops collecting on his bare neck before plunging into his white shirt, running along the line of his chest, of his back, between his shoulder blades, caressing his spine with winter fingers before dying, sucked by the fabric that was now one with his skin. It was November, but he didn’t feel cold because he realized he could be even colder than the cold itself. In anyone’s eyes he would have looked crazy, but Seungyoun had never felt more lucid in his entire life than when he had decided to take his life off.

His soul was in pieces and Cho Seungyoun couldn’t help but smile at the breeze that lashed his face, making the rain even more severe. He was standing on the top of a building and he couldn’t even tell how he got there, but was it such a relevant detail compared with what was about to happen?

Free. Cho Seungyoun felt free for the first time as he stepped forward, his torso bending to advance his own center of gravity, making the maintenance of balance a struggle.

It was at this point that he felt a light hand touch his shoulder, maintaining a surprisingly iron grip considering its small size. He pulled Seungyoun back with the delicacy of a butterfly’s throbbing, but, as Bradbury says, isn’t that the gesture that triggers the biggest storms? Seungyoun turned, surprised, finding himself face to face with a visage so unknown as to be familiar. Strands of chocolate licking a young face like his own, with gently angular features, white pearls shining in the darkness on peach beaches, creating two dimples that pierce the canvas of the cheeks, and then eyes. As dark as the soul that Seungyoun believed he had, yet in them reflected a laugh and a warmth he had never known. Beautiful in their gleam of wild innocence.

The stranger looked at him smiling, without saying anything, and he stared back at him, remaining silent, too destabilized to be able to utter a word.

"Have you been enchanted while looking at the river of life?" Were the stranger’s first words, the notes of laughter rumbling at the bottom of his throat.

He didn't answer immediately, bewildered by that sentence. What kind of question was that? Had he not understood his intentions? Or was he simply pretending to have missed his choice?

"Something like that" he replied, shrugging, his hands in his pockets. He still felt the other boy’s grip on his left shoulder, yet he too had both hands in his pockets.

"Seoul is so beautiful tonight," the stranger continued, passing him in a few steps to embrace the view of the city with his eyes. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, revealing white fingers that began to fiddle with the breeze, his arms pretending to be the open wings of some mysterious bird. "It is beautiful every night, to tell the truth, if you know where to look. I wish I could enjoy this view forever”.

"You can" was Seungyoun's unexpected response, escaped before he could even notice, astonishing the boy himself. The stranger turned and dedicated a smile to him, without interrupting his funny game.

"I love the wind. I also love those who invented it. I think I've always liked it, you know? Since I was a child. I also like the sun. And you, do you like the sun? " He spoke quickly, the stranger, faster than Seungyoun could follow and that displaced him. What the hell was he babbling about?

"I don't think it ever mattered much to me, to be honest. And then, what does the sun have to do with it? "

He saw the boy’s eyes widen, as if he had just professed the greatest of heresies.

"What does the sun have to do with it? Does it look like nothing to you, the sun? Without him we wouldn’t have had darkness and, consequently, we couldn’t understand how lucky we are to have light” was his reply, an infant's voice trapped into a man's body that ended with a clinking laugh that sounded like a bell jar before becoming serious again, his features changing expression so often and suddenly that it was not difficult to have one escape. "You know, the pain, as it may seem infinite, doesn't really last forever. It is the same length as a moonless or starless night. At the end of it, there is always a bright sun waiting for us, only we often don't notice it, too busy looking at the only cloud in the sky ".

Seungyoun didn't know if he could fully understand the boy's speeches, but at the same time, he felt like a child discovering the universe for the first time. And the longer he went on tasting the knowledge, the more he wanted a new bite.

"You know, the morning light is difficult to explain because it is so simple," the boy whispered. "It’s like the embrace of someone you care about: warm, enveloping, able to make you feel understood, if only you allow it. It is like the heart of a woman, who trusts you enough to give it to you. It is like the smile of a child who sees the world for the first time. Simple, yet immensely complicated at the same time. " And, in yet another change of expression, he laughed again, a music Seungyoun would have been willing to hear endlessly, to then exhale an impatient: "Follow me!". He held out his hand, but didn't wait for him to grab it, running as if he wanted to be caught. And Seungyoun was going to catch him.

He ran after him but never managed to reach him. He could hear the other boy laughing, saying words he didn't fully understand, but he just needed to hear his voice to feel better inexplicably.

"Life is a beautiful place," he exclaimed at one point, stopping in the deserted street. They were separated only by a few meters, but this did not prevent the stranger from turning around, smiling at him as he had done on the roof, uttering an amused: "You’re slow!". The light of a new day came up behind him, illuminating him until he looked like an angel belonging to another world.

“Live. Live for me. Promise me you will” he said, a pleading look on his beautiful features, as if his whole existence depended on his oath.

“I will do it. I promise you that I will live. I will live for you" Seungyoun replied, admiring him turning on and smiling at his statement.

“I’ll go forward. I'll wait for you at the dormitory” were the last words the stranger spoke before getting back to running towards the morning light. Seungyoun said nothing, just watched him run forward, towards the light that became more and more strong and intense, forcing darkness to step aside in front of his immense splendor. He covered his eyes with one hand, because the sun was so bright that it blinded him.

He then began to walk and the thought that the mysterious male was waiting for him was enough to give him new strength. In a few minutes - or perhaps it seemed to him few, such was the desire to reach him - he arrived at the dormitory. He looked around, but no boy settled in the surroundings. He didn't care much about it, it wasn't so unlikely that one of the early riser members could had let him in. He passed in turn the entrance, a greeting to abandon his lips at the sight of Seungwoo’s shoulders, the man busy in a doubtful traffic in the kitchen, and of Hangyul’s back, firm in front of the television.

"Have you seen, by any chance, a boy with big dark eyes wandering around? He looks about my age and he’s wearing a long brown coat” he asked, in his voice the uncertainty of the impatience. He freed his breath, which he had not even realized he was holding, seeing Hangyul nod, but frowning when the sand haired boy pointed at the TV screen. Seungyoun approached the younger male, curious, freezing in place when seeing the photograph that appeared on the lit screen: it depicted the same boy he had just seen that night on the top of that building. The news gave him the name of Kim Wooseok, a young music student who died in a plane crash three days earlier.

Seungyoun shook his head, the most total denial wrapping him like a velvety shroud. No, he couldn't have died, he had seen him. Wooseok had spoken to him.

And it was then that he realized.

On the roof he felt himself pulling, but Wooseok’s hands were in his pockets.

Seungyoun had not heard him coming.

He had held out his hand but hadn't waited for him to grab it.

He was almost gone before his eyes, running towards the light.

Seungyoun understood. He really understood. Wooseok was dead, but he had saved him. He had prevented Seungyoun from throwing away what was torn from him. Seungyoun felt so stupid for what he had been about to do, and lucky, because the other, even when dead, had done good.

He had saved his life.

And Seungyoun would not have wasted that second chance the other had given him.

Only there, exactly three days later, in front of his tomb and at the end of his funeral, Seungyoun allowed himself to cry all the tears he had in his body.

The sun was now high in the sky, but he didn't raise his hand to protect himself from his rays: _"You think you have nothing; does the sun look like nothing to you?"_

No, the sun was not _nothing_. The sun was everything.

The sun was him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/runachik_) where we can scream about seungseok together.


End file.
